


The Embers of Desire

by LilithsLullaby



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Porn, Self-Insert, Smut, new avenger, reader is a badass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-04-08 05:13:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14097990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilithsLullaby/pseuds/LilithsLullaby
Summary: Agent Embers volunteers for a mission that promises certain death. Not because she’s a fan of near-death experiences, but because she can’t watch her friend (and would-be lover) get himself killed.Perhaps with the skills of the magic-wielding criminal and her untrained abilities, they will live long enough for Embers to confess her feelings to the God of Mischief.- Post Ragnorak / Ignores Inifinity -





	1. Fire

**Author's Note:**

> I came up with the idea of this story based on a dream. I’m doing a bit of experimenting with this one, in terms of how I work with flashbacks, so I hope you enjoy!

_“I don’t have much left to lose.”_

Those are the words that echo inside your skull. Words that scream like a reverberating curse as you near impending death. As the aircraft soars through the night, the cool air stinging your eyes through the open airlock. As your heart pounds inside your chest, like a reminder of the heartbreak you heard in his voice.

He lost his mother, his father, his home.

You stare at him, sitting hunched over across from you as he polishes his daggers mindlessly.

_Did you really mean it? Do you feel like you have nothing?_

“We are approaching the landing sight!” Natasha announces from behind you, averting your attention. She will be your watchdog, while the rest of the aptly named Avenger Rejects are sent down, dropped into a mission from which you may not return. S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn’t risk sending their prized flock into certain death. But you... you were expendable. Expendable until you could prove otherwise.

“How many did you say there were?” A solider asks beside you. He seems too eager. He keeps loading and unloading his guns, grinning like a mad man.

You've never met any of them, you realize. None but the man across from you, with his gaze still glued to the daggers that keep appearing and disappearing in his hands.

“About fifty,” Natasha tells him. “But they will be easy to take out if necessary. This is a starter mission, after all.”

It’s a lie. You had done research on this facility. The terrorist organization was new, yes, but they were far from child’s play. And you knew beyond the glimmer of a doubt that many of the men and women around you would die trying to complete this mission. And you know the only advantage you have over certain death is the skills of a magic-wielding Asgardian. And your own abilities, which are unpredictable at best.

And while the rookie calvary had not been given the luxury of choice (the mission dubbed a training exercise) you had volunteered. Not because you were particularly thrilled about facing the rogue terrorist organization. But because you heard a certain mischievous prisoner had also subjected himself to the excursion, in exchange for a reduced jail sentence of one hundred years.

One hundred years. Just the blink of an eye for a God.

“How long do we have?” another solider asks, a female who has been nervously rubbing her hands together for the past hour.

“Thirty minutes, max,” Natasha answers.

“Do we anticipate super soldiers? Should we...”

“Honestly did any of you read the briefing before we left headquarters?” You bark in annoyance.

And finally, Loki looks up from his daggers. He looks right at you with a smirk before chuckling softly.

The man besides you turns to face you with a tilted grin. Rickers, you note from the crude paint smeared on his arm like a badge of honor. “Suicidal I take it?”

You follow his eye down toward your empty utility belt. No gun, no weapons, no protection. To him, you must look like a sheep going into the slaughter.

“She doesn’t need any of your pathetic Midgardian weapons,” Loki replies, his gaze narrowed onto the man who sits uncomfortably close to your left. His eyes flash briefly with jealousy.

And perhaps it is an honest compliment, you decide. It was how you’d met, after all. When he’d caught you training in the underground arena, placed precariously by the holding cells. Where no one else bothered to venture. When no one else bothered to train.

You thought it was a place where you could be safe from the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D., from the wandering eye of gossips. Not like you didn’t suspect Stark had cameras installed even down there. But you relished in the perceived privacy. Until you caught him, spying on you.

You had used the fuel of a recent breakup to give life to the pathetic outburst of your power. It was enough to spark a small flame into your hay target, triggering the overhead sprinkler system that subsequently left you drenched. That was when his eyes had caught yours across the field; when you appeared like a wet dog, with smeared mascara and hair stuck to your cheeks. But still, grinning with victory.

He leaned forward onto his knuckles, his wrists refrained in handcuffs while he studied you. Every move you made after, his eyes followed you. And you had cursed under your breath as you ran in the opposite direction, out of the arena. Of course he’d been there, you thought. No one else would bother to wander the halls at that hour. The peculiar night owl, they called you. At midnight no one else would see you. But at midnight, they gave him a small taste of freedom. And at midnight, he was able to watch you.

The next afternoon, your own spiraling thoughts sent you back down toward the holding cells. What had he seen? What did he know? And as you approached his cell, you found him standing in the darkness. Only his shimmering emerald eyes gleamed up at you from the fog of black nothingness. He proceeded to stare at you for a good while before the awkward air forced you to break the silence.

“Is your silver-tongue caught in your throat?” You glare. “How disappointing...I’ve heard you love the sound of your own voice.”

“I do believe you were the one who came to speak with me,” he said, emerging out from the shadows. His fangs caught the dim light of his cell. “So tell me, kitten, what do you want to ask me?”

Headquarters had been abuzz with gossip since he arrived. When the misplaced ship of Asgardians had landed on Earth, with Thor as the crowned King, seeking refuge. And refuge they found thanks to S.H.I.E.L.D., in exchange for handing over their estranged prince with a criminal record. He had subsequently been scooped up like some misbehaving child, without so much as a chance for redemption. But you were sure he’d use any incriminating information he could find to weasel his way out, to gain back his freedom.

“What did you see?” You asked with a glare aimed into the black cell as he slinks toward you, barely visible.

“I saw your temper tantrum,” he laughed. “Care to share what poor soul you pictured as that pile of hay? I sincerely hope it wasn’t me...”

You left without another word, annoyed. His laughter echoed down the hall towards you. But every afternoon after that, you returned to his cell, curiosity killing your better judgment. You sat outside the door and spoke with him. Because, you told yourself, you needed to know his agenda, his aim in spying on you every night. But little by little, you opened up to each other.

You hated to admit it, but after a time, you began to anticipate, if not enjoy, his company at midnight. At first, he stood by and provided snarky comments from the other end of the arena. Until, finally, he joined you in the center, and with cuffed hands, attempted to help you train himself. He blamed it on his frustration with watching you continue to struggle. But you sensed it was much more than just that. And in your eagerness to feel the full extent of his hands, you eventually stole the keys for his handcuffs...

“She’ll be begging for me to rescue her,” Rickers remarks, pulling you from the reverie of your memories. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll save you. Just stay close to me.”

He shifts closer and you stand with a glare, prepping your parachute.

“Just focus on not getting your ass killed and slowing us down,” You growl.

Again, Loki laughs before he follows you toward the opening. You both stare down at the landing site, in the middle of a forest, in the middle of nowhere.

“I say we leave him behind,” Loki whispers. “A stab wound to the leg would be rather unfortunate, don’t you think?”

“They’ll take it as a sign of war if we leave him there, wailing like a forgotten widow,” You laugh.

He smirks before walking forward toward the edge of the drop off, and jumping out into the darkness. He disappears through the fog. You follow, catapulting through the cold air, with nothing but your company-provided uniform to keep you warm. You land, a few feet from Loki, onto the frozen wasteland. You shift out of the parachute, leaving it to collect the soft snow that kisses the earth.

Loki is unperturbed by the drop of temperature on ground level. Neither are you; an inner warmth keeping you from frost bite.

The rest of your backup crew thumps onto the ground behind you a few seconds later and you peer up to see the dark aircraft soar off out of sight. Twenty of you total. You search the crowd but can’t find a single solider with the stripes of commander. The briefing hadn’t indicated a leader either, you realize.

“Its fucking freezing!” Rickers shouts as he lands, adjusting his hustler.

You turn and clamp your hand over his mouth, whispering harshly, “You really are an idiot, aren’t you? Keep your voice down.”

He licks the backs of your fingers with a grin, causing you to pull away and back up toward Loki, disgusted.

“Let’s just get this over with,” you growl, leading the way toward the hideaway, which you note is tucked into the depths of a cave. Loki is at your side almost immediately.

“How should we go about this?” You ask, stalking toward the mouth of the cave. “The briefing said we are suppose to retrieve some sort of stolen code but it didn’t give any indication as to how we are suppose to do that...”

“Kill everyone,” he replies with a smirk. “Time for you to tap into that hidden talent of yours, kitten.”

“Don’t call me that,” You snap, but you can feel the blush of your cheeks growing regardless.

You recall all those nights when he’d teased you with an onslaught of pet names. All of which made you shift uncomfortably in front of him. How he tested out “pet” and watched you squirm in reaction. How he tried “kitten” and laughed at how you blushed. And how he once called you his “little minx” and you’d shoved him against the wall, your lips barely touching. It was meant to be a threat but it left you wanting.

That had become the definition of your relationship: a delicate balancing act over the edge of complete oblivion. A relationship of unfulfilled promises, wrought with pent up longing.

You emerge through the natural rock formation and after walking through the dark for a few minutes, you finally see the glow of artificial light up ahead. It swings back and forth against a phantom breeze. A young lookout emerges from under the lamp, his hand hovered over a trigger, meant to alert the rest of his company of your arrival. But Loki’s dagger lodges into his throat before he can even think of moving further.

“After you.”

Loki motions forward for you to lead before ducking down to yank his weapon free, as if he were plucking a flower from the earth.

“Agent Embers,” someone whispers behind you. It’s the female, Mathews. “What is your order?”

“My order?” You gape at her. “I’m not in charge here...”

“But your name was listed on the briefing...” she replies meekly.

You never saw your name on any briefing for this mission. What was she talking about?

“We move forward,” Rickers interrupts, pushing his way between you and Loki, assuming command. “Keep your guns loaded. Shoot to kill. The code will likely be further down this way.”

Matthews falls into his shadow, like a lost lamb, her head down in shame. And you follow, with a thoughtful glance toward your companion.

After passing through a few corridors, the natural rock formations begin to fade into metallic walls. You cross paths with a few startled terrorists, who Rickers single handedly takes down, as if it is a show of his vigor. Of his male vibrato.

“See? This is why we need a man in charge,” he comments with a horrid grin.

And as he is boasting, an enemy solider approaches behind him. Only to be swiftly taken down by another one of Loki’s daggers.

“Yes... whatever would we do without you,” Loki replies smugly before pushing you forward and adding in a whisper. “If you don’t take charge, we will have signed over our lives to that trigger-happy fool.”

“Me? I would have thought you’d be itching to lead,” you mock. “Remind me again what happened on Asgard. Oh, that’s right. You pretended to be King. How’d that work out?”

He glares at you and you see the flash of forgotten pain pass through the ores of his eyes. You open your mouth to apologize, but your eye catches a sealed doorway just up ahead. You signal forward, and three men emerge from the back of the calvary to work on the lock. It doesn’t take much of an effort for the lock to snap and the door to ease open with an exhaustive breath. And there, posed and waiting in what appears to be an abandoned command center, is a briefcase. Sitting like a prize waiting to be claimed.

It’s too easy.

Rickers wastes no time to push his way forward, several others falling behind him. He walks toward the briefcase, smiling at his small band of recruits.

“This whole place reeks of deceit,” Loki growls. “Something isn’t right.”

And you agree. It is too cut and dry.

You go to stop Rickers but it’s too late. The instant he grabs the briefcase, a deafening alarm sounds, illuminating the room in a crimson beam of light. The doors seal shut with a slam and a gas pours in from the vents, cascading down over your heads.

You reach for the supplied gas mask but it’s already being secured to your mouth by Loki. He stares at you beneath his own, his eyes narrowed in as if his mind is whirling around the constructs of a plan. You study his emerald gems as they gaze upon you. And you watch, hopelessly, as some of the recruits fumble to react in time, collapsing to the floor. Just breathing in a small amount of the poisonous fumes has secured their fate.

Rickers and Mathews, along with a handful of others, are the only fortunate few to survive the fumes. Rickers, rather recklessly, throws a small grenade at the door. You curse and duck, as the bomb detonates, shattering the remnants of the sealed door and sending shards of metallic debris across the expanse of the room. One less recruit, you note, as you finally stand amongst the smokey haze. Scrap-metal is lodged into his chest, the blood dripping from underneath his mask.

But there isn’t time to mourn, or to carry back the dead to bury. You check your watch. Ten minutes remain. That leaves time enough to leave. And perhaps time enough for just one angry outburst.

Having cleared the death chamber, you pull the mask up over your head, giving your lungs the capacity to scream. You shove Rickers into the wall.

“You just killed half of our team!” You shout, no longer caring where your voice carried. _Let them come. Let them kill him where he stands._

Rickers leans his head against the wall, not resisting, as he too pulls his mask off to respond.

“The casualties we suffered were expected,” he says and in a lower voice adds, “We are almost near the completion of this mission, Embers. If you stay in line, you’ll make it out alive like the rest of us. Tell you what...I’ll buy you a drink when we land... if you stop questioning my actions.”

“There will always be people wanting to deceive you,” Loki once told you, when you’d collapsed to the floor in a fit of exhaustion. He’d worked you to the bone that evening and yet no glimmer of power had emerged from within. Only muscle aches and curses as you fought through the night.

“There are at least two sides to every person,” he added. “Like two sides to a coin. It could save your life to understand which side of the coin you are dealing with during a fight.”

“And which side am I dealing with now, Loki?” You asked, peering up at him from the floor. “Heads or tails?”

And he straddled you, pinning your wrists to the ground. His breath cascaded over you in waves. And you realized, with horrifying regret, that you wanted a taste of his sinful tongue.

“I’m a many-faced God. I wonder if you could handle some of my sides, my little minx...”

And it was just before the aircraft lifted you away, that you finally saw the side of Loki he only teased at sharing with you.

“I can’t take you up on that offer,” you growl toward Rickers. “I have a prior engagement.”

Loki eyes you with a smirk and your knees begin to tremble as you recall his promise. A promise spoken against the nape of your neck.

_If we make it out alive, you’re mine. All of you._

_Then you really will have something to lose... won’t you, Loki?_

“They never should have let you join this mission,” Rickers groans. “It would have been so much easier without you here, constantly meddling.”

You blink and turn your gaze upon the retrieved item and, without hesitation, yank it from his grasp. Though, he hardly fights against you. You look to Matthews whose eyes are wide upon you. As her gaze shifts to the briefcase, you misjudge her actions for a guidance to open it. And regrettably, you do so, only to find the briefcase empty. Empty, save for a small blade that shimmers in the dim light of the cave, the flickering lantern up ahead just barely keeping steady. And in the blink of an eye, the blade flies free from its confines and locks onto Loki’s chest.

It pins him to the wall like a magnet, stuck through his ribs. He grasps at the blade and struggles to free it from his body, jerking forward. And with every pull, it seems to burrow deeper. He groans in agony, throwing his head back against the wall. His hands become sleek with the oil of his blood, until he can’t keep hold any longer. His fingers slipping off the sharpened edges.

You throw yourself in front of him and wrap your hands around the wound, attempting to stop the persistent bleeding that’s begun to spread like a macabre art piece over his shirt. And just behind you, you hear the rest of the terrorist organization getting nearer. Panic seizes through your veins.

“Help me!” You scream as you try, to no avail, to free him.

But the company around you barely moves. They stare in unison, down at his bleeding body, as if it were routine. As if it were all part of their plan.

“He’ll slow us down,” Rickers says bluntly before giving a signal and sending the reminder of the team back toward the approaching enemy, save for Matthews and another nameless solider. A face hidden amongst the crowd. “You can stay with the murderer if that’s what you want, but you’ll die with him if you do.”

You gaze up at Loki and in his eyes is the silent command to abandon him. To get out. And deep within your soul, you feel the reverberating course of power itching for release. Given life from rage.

“Rage is where my power lies,” Loki had confessed. “It’s what makes me strong. What keeps me from truly going insane.”

“There are other emotions besides rage,” you told him. “Other feelings you could utilize. Feelings as strong, if not stronger, than rage.”

“Rage is all I know.”

You gaze down at your hands, hands held over the bleeding wound of the man who had become your only friend, your confidant, and now something more... You won’t let him die.

And as your gaze settles on the blade, lettering catches your eye, etched into the blade. The initials signifying the branding of company.

“This was all a trap,” you realize. Your eyes are wide. Burning. Seething. You reach behind him and clasp your hands around the blade held locked to the wall. You channel your rage down into your fingertips, as he taught you. The heat within your palms begins to soar. It melts the metal of the blade until it slides away, like sleek mud after a rainstorm. You pull against Loki’s shoulders, sliding him off the weapon with a guttural moan. Your press into his chest, whispering apologizes before you seer the wound closed with the scolding heat of your hands. Loki screams in pain but you have to stop the bleeding. You throw his arm over your shoulder.

“We are getting out of here,” you tell him, pulling him to walk.

“I’m dead weight, kitten,” he replies in a low voice, wrought with muffled wincing. Blood trickles off his lips. “The wound was much deeper than just that.”

“Why are you giving up so easily?” You bark back. “The man I know would find any way to maneuver out of an obstacle. He’d lie, cheat, seduce or kill anyone who got in his way.”

“You know me so well...” He smirks before coughing up blood, urging you to move faster.

You find the male solider first, staggering behind. You let go of Loki for a moment, leaving him to lean against the wall for support. Your sizzling hands clasp around the soldier’s neck, and you eye a swaying dog tag. His name is just a scramble of letters. Letters that mean nothing. He is nothing to you. It would make killing him easier, you decide, if you didn’t know him.

You yank the dog tag from his neck before you brand him with the shimmering flames of your palms, wrapped around his throat. And he screams in agony, your clutch having embedded deep, blistering burns around his throat.

“It’s true,” he struggles to mouth. “You are a super solider.”

“I’m nothing more than a bitch who is ready to kill anyone who gets in her way,” you correct. “What did your briefing say?”

He struggles to speak, so you loosen your grasp. But only slightly, enough so he can allow air back into his lungs.

“Im sorry,” he gasps. “I know you care about him. I know he...”

“Mathews said she saw my name on the briefing, what did she mean?” You slam him harder against the wall.

“There was a second briefing,” he confesses, chocking for air. “We were meant to leave Loki here to die. That was the real mission. And if... if you got in the way, you would need to be taken out as well.”

“Why come all the way down here then? Why drag us into this mission if you could just have killed us the easy way?”

“Because this way they can write our deaths off as a casualty,” Loki comments from behind you. You turn to look at him, your eyes growing wider. He is fading fast, his face unbearably pale. “So my brother could still be held under their flimsy contract and continue to protect Midgard.”

You slam him back into the wall. “Who saw this briefing?”

“Everyone.”

Your hand catches fire and he screams, anticipating the fatal strike. But the flames extinguish by your will.

“Get out,” you growl, pushing him away. “Run back to Ground level and call for Romanoff. This mission is over.”

He turns on his heels and runs without a moment’s hesitation.

“That’s what makes us different, pet,” Loki whispers against your ear once he is back in your arms. “I wouldn’t have let him live.”

You open you mouth to speak but his lips touch your neck as he hunches to the side. “I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my promise.”

“God of Lies,” you whisper. “I very much intend for you to keep many promises after today.”

You continue after the spared solider, where you find Rickers moments later, standing besides Matthews. And beneath their feet is the man’s lifeless body, a gunshot wound leaking fluid through his skull.

Rickers lifts his gaze and glares upon seeing Loki at your side.

“Some soldiers aren’t very reliable,” he comments before his gaze drifts down to your hands, alit with bright raging flames. “So the rumors are true. I always wondered why they kept you around. Now it all adds up...”

“I will kill you. All of you,” you promise. “But I’ll give you one final chance. You let us leave, him and I. And you won’t ever see us again.”

“And how do you plan on keeping that promise, Embers?” He asks with a glare, his hand already wrapped around the gun on his hip. “You think you know him? Hm? You think after a couple of months of your secret rendezvouses that he’d follow your command like a faithful dog? Is that how good of a fuck you are?”

They knew. S.H.I.E.L.D knew. And maybe they’d let you get close to him. Maybe they’d hoped your growing relationship could prove useful to their agenda. And in this moment, it had.

You can feel Loki vibrate within your hold. “Don’t you dare speak to her that way,” he growls and his dagger materializes in his free hand, as if through instinct.

“So you didn’t fuck him then?” Rickers asks you with a laugh. “We all assumed that’s why you went down to his holding cell so much, to suck his cock like a good little whore.”

The dagger flies and lodges into Rickers’ shoulder. If Loki hadn’t been at a disadvantage, it would have gone right through his skull.

Rickers rises his gun with his good arm and you watch as his fingers wrap around the trigger, aiming toward Loki. But before you can move, Matthews tackles him to the ground, causing the fired bullet to rickshaw off the wall beside you, missing it’s target.

“Run!” Matthews orders, struggling to keep him down.

You have only a few seconds to act before Rickers regains the upper hand. Determined to not let her treason go to waste, you reach for Loki and run out of the cave into the night, only to halt when you hear a barrage of gun fire.

You breathe in the cool night air, a snowflake caught on your lips. Your hands are beginning to dull, only small flames left ignited on your finger tips as you gaze back toward the cave entrance. You have to fight. You have to stay strong.

“If you had left me, maybe you’d still have a job,” Loki comments behind you.

“You think I give a fuck about working for S.H.I.E.L.D. now?” You bark. “After this? After what they planned to do to you?”

“I’m flattered I hold such high influence over you...”

You turn to look at him, where he stands leaning against the trunk of a tree to catch his breath. And you decide its worth sparing just a few minutes to stalk back toward him. You’d be done soon anyway. You are already an enemy of S.H.I.E.L.D.

The flames dull but the heat in your palms remains as you reach up to cradle his pale face in your hands, caressing his jawline. A sizzling steam rises up through the gapes of your fingers from the contact. From ice meeting fire.

“You’re an idiot, Loki,” you say with a glare. “I thought it was your brother who lost an eye but you... You are truly blind.”

Your lips touch his and you lose yourself in the sensation, in the numbing cold that tames the raging fire of your soul. His hands reach up to hold you closer but there isn’t time for that. You pull away, letting your lips linger over his. He sighs against you.

“You always told me rage would be the most effective emotion I could utilize,” you breathe. “But I found something that works even better...”

You turn to find Rickers approaching through the entrance, alone and bleeding. And you know Matthews is dead, dead for having tried to save you.

You pull away from Loki and step toward Rickers, letting the flames engulf your arms, until your limbs are nothing but fire. And you decide that if you are going to die, your last words should be a confession.

“Love is much stronger than rage,” you whisper into the night. After so many nights wanting to tell him but being held back by fear.

You turn back to look at Loki and find his eyes are wide, dazzling under the moonlight. Holding an expression you can’t quite decipher.

But you can’t waste time locked in his gaze, so you run toward Rickers and embrace him with the core of your flames. He screams as the fire consumes him, raging blues and whites that soar up over his body and kiss the sky. Not even the snow can calm the raging flames. He tries to fight back but you’ve fully embraced the caged beast. And now, freed, there would be no contest. No fighting it. You feel his life slowly drain as he burns.

You pull away and pulse the remaining tendrils of your power into the rest of the cave until the entrance is nothing more than a curtain of flames. You feel it take the source of your energy, all that you are. And you stumble backward, like the wick of a candle about to disintegrate into ash.

But you have to push through. You have to. Because just ahead of you are the lights of an approaching aircraft, no longer attempting to foreign the need for stealth.

And you turn to find Loki, unconscious against the trunk of the tree. Your flames extinguished and drained, you reach for his discarded dagger, preparing yourself in anyway you can. To face the impending onslaught from your old colleagues. Your new enemies.


	2. Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Finally got around to finishing this piece. It was a needed break from the angsty soap opera that my other work, A Righteous Disguise, has slowly become. Hope you enjoy!

_**Loki’s POV** _

He wakes to the blinding streams of afternoon sunshine assaulting the backs of his eyelids. He groans and shifts, quickly finding the source of his pain. The stab wound at the center of his chest, now patched up and hidden beneath thick layers of gauze. He peels them back and sees the remnants of a burn, attempting to heal under a sea of ointment.

_A burn? But wasn’t it a blade that..._

He slams his fist into the nightstand, placed beside his hospital bed, with a curse. It splinters slightly under the force of his hand.

“Loki?”

He blinks and sees Thor standing in the open doorway, out of breath as if he ran to get there. Loki rolls his eyes.

“I would have much preferred to wake up to the sight of someone else,” he groans.

“What the hell were you doing?” Thor growls. “You could have gotten yourself killed!”

Loki’s gaze narrows toward the doorway. “And I clearly got very close to accomplishing that. I seem to have a skill for that sort of thing,” he says with a sigh. “Honestly, I’m surprised they are keeping me alive at all. What did they tell you?”

“You are being heralded as a survivor,” Thor explains as he nears him, his eyes drifting down to the disheveled layers of gauze at his chest. “Fatally wounded in a sort of redemption mission. I knew it had to be a lie... but I had to see you for myself.”

“Thank you for having such faith in me...” Loki snarls. “They are probably seething over the fact that I have a very strong will to live. Now they can’t write me off as a casualty. They have to start plotting my murder instead...”

“Murder?” His eyes widen. “Brother, what is all this about? Why would you go on that mission anyway? It doesn’t seem like you to belittle yourself to them... And for what? A few years off your sentence?” Thor falls into the chair beside the bed and leans toward his brother. “Loki, why did you really go?”

“What does it matter?” Loki snaps. “Weren’t you the one to offer me over to a lifetime of solitude at the hands of these imbeciles?”

“You agreed to this...”

“Yes, for our people. For Asgard.” Loki leans back, clinching his eyes tightly shut. “Leave me,” he barks. “I don’t have time to be pestered by you. Shouldn’t you be off somewhere bowing to your mortal keepers, anyway?”

“I came to make sure my brother was alive... Is it so hard to believe that despite everything, despite everything you’ve done, I still care for nothing but your well being, Loki?”

“Would you have mourned for me?”

Loki opens his eyes and he sees in his brother a rich sadness that ripples through the cool blue pools of his irises, like streaks of a deadly winter. He sighs, staring up at the ceiling instead. Refusing to acknowledge it.

“You were wise to part ways with Jane,” Loki says instead, after a moment too long held to the silence of regret. “Mortal women weaken us.”

“This was about a woman?” Thor’s eyebrows arch in surprise. “Really?”

Loki groans and struggles to sit up straight. “Isn’t every reckless thing we do driven by idiotic desires?” he begins. “You all think I am controlled by nothing but a lust for power. Is it so hard to believe that I could be capable of caring for another person?”

“I don’t think mother would have been very surprised,” Thor says softly. “She knew you better than any of us.”

Loki sighs and closes his eyes. “Even she would not have expected this. I... I never anticipated this.”

“Who is she?” Thor asks. “This woman you say has weakened you.”

“Just a woman,” Loki replies but he quickly decides the truth will do him no harm against Thor. “A woman who is a thing of nature,” he clarifies. “My opposite in many ways and my equal in all else...” He presses his face into the palm of his hand, his voice muffled against his skin.“The truth is I struck a deal with your beloved Midgardians. In exchange for my participation in their little excursion, they’d let her go.”

He lifts his face from his hands to mindlessly trace circles through the exposed ointment where she’d scarred him. “She has no idea she is as much of a prisoner as I am. Ignorance has became her shackles.”

“I can see to it that she’s safe,” Thor tells him. “I won’t let them hurt her or you...”

“They want me dead, brother!” Loki screams suddenly. “And I almost let them succeed because I followed them blindly into that death trap, because of my feelings for her. You really think they’d let her live now? The association with me alone has sealed her fate. She may not even be alive now...”

“Don’t say that.” Thor’s voice thunders through the small room. “I will find her. We will find her. Together.”

“Why do you care?” Loki asks with a glare. “Why help me?”

“Because you may not believe it, but I know how love can change a person,” his brother replies before standing. “Can you walk?”

Loki glares at him and throws back the sheer blankets, before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “Can I walk... of course I can walk.” But the minute his feet hit the floor, he fumbles forward, falling against Thor’s chest with a curse. He shoves him away and slides back against the bed.

Thor laughs lightly. “Perhaps we should wait until you’re fully healed.”

“The longer we wait the more at risk she is,” Loki groans, struggling again to stand. He leans against his knees and huffs.

“Sit for a bit. Gather your strength,” Thor insists, sitting beside him on the edge of the bed. “Tell me about your lady love.”

* * *

 

**_Reader’s POV_ **

You sit in the corner of your new home, the former inhabitance of the God of Mischief. As if it were some sort of poetic justice that you be placed in the holding cell of your almost-lover. _Those sick bastards._

You pulse small flames out from your fingertips. Up and down. Your flesh made into a personal match; blood the lighter fluid. The tiny sparks briefly illuminate the cramped space at each interval of their existence.

You can’t even be bothered with the sad excuse for bedding they’ve provided, preferring the cold hard ground beneath you. The cold stone against your thighs reminds you of something you wish you could forget. His chilling smile. His soft caress that could quickly turn into something more abrasive. If you allowed him the leverage to play his games.

You lean back against the wall and gaze into the fire held between your fingertips, the extension of your soul. It feels as easy as breathing now. Now that you’ve found a reliable source for its existence.

The love for a man who could very well be dead.

The words of your confession make you feel like dying yourself. While you may never know his answer, whether it was mutual or one-sided... it doesn’t matter. What truly keeps you up at night is the question of whether he is dead or alive.

The plane had arrived shortly after Loki collapsed, and while you were ready to face a barrage of bullets, they simply restrained you with a shock collar and brought you back to headquarters. A criminal now like Loki. For killing their agents, they said. They didn’t care to know the reality of the situation, that you had just been attempting to stay alive. The truth didn’t matter.

And you watched hopelessly as they carted Loki’s lifeless body away, dragging you in the opposite direction toward this cell. You screamed his name until the shock collar pulled you into a pain so numbing you fell unconscious. You were separated from the only beautiful thing in your life and left to deafening silence of uncertainty.

 _He must be dead,_ you decide after a few days in solitude. You lean your head back against the wall and will the tears back into your skull. You wouldn’t allow yourself to cry, not until you knew for certain what had become of him. And you’d cried enough during those first few days in darkness.

You hear footsteps approaching, but that isn’t unusual. Guards came each morning and evening with food. But today, they are either very early or very late.

“I won’t eat anymore of your slop!” You shout in defiance. “You’ll have to attach a feeding tube to me if you want to keep me alive!”

But there is only silence in response. So you stand and stare out the barred window of your cell door only to find an empty corridor. You gaze out wide eyed when the door pushes against you, swinging inward as it opens. You stumble backward until you edge into the metal cot.

“Is someone there?” You ask into the void.

An answer comes in the form of hands wrapping around your waist from behind, pulling you down onto the bed. But when you fall into a seated position, you aren’t resting against the bed, but rather, on someone’s lap. Arms snake around your middle, pulling your back to be flesh against his chest, where the drumming of his heart vibrates against your spine. And the very stiff evidence of his arousal presses into your bottom.

“Oh kitten, you are in quite a bit of trouble,” he growls against your neck before nipping playfully on your earlobe. His tongue traces up the scoop of your throat with a sigh.

“Loki?” Your eyes go wide, your breathing stilled. You can smell him, the evergreen musk of his sinful cologne. An aroma that left you wanton and dizzy after training, when his scent would linger on your skin for hours. It often fueled lustrous explorations of your body late into the night.

“Hush, pet,” he answers, kissing you softly against the nape of your neck. “I haven’t given you permission to talk.”

“You’re alive... I thought... are you hurt?” You make to turn around in your desperation to look at him. To meet the rich emerald ore of his eyes. To study every inch of him for mortal injury. But he stalls your movement with the firm grip of his palms held tight against either side of your thighs, parting your legs wide for him. You gasp, a soft moan leaving your lips as you arch your back against his chest.

“I said no talking,” he growls as his teeth graze against your skin, threatening to leave marks behind in your tender flesh. You dare not speak, communicating only in moans instead as his hand inches it’s way up your inner thigh. Teasing you with the painful proximity of his fingertips to your wet mound, hidden beneath the cotton inmate attire.

“Do you know why I need to punish you?” He asks against your neck. You shake your head in answer. “You dared to lie to your King, little one,” he growls as his hand pushes past the elastic band at your waist, smoothing down over the tuff of your pubic hair, unkept from days of imprisonment. Your eyes widen as you blush with embarrassment. But your body responds automatically, thrusting your hips up into his hand as his fingers find your clit. A deep groan escapes your lips as he rubs the evidence of your arousal, already dripping from your entrance, into your swollen nub.

“Fuck... Loki,” you moan, grinding into his hand, desperate for more of his touch.

You’d so often dreamt of his touch in those long nights alone, when you realized the full gravity of your feelings for him. That your friendship with him had given birth to a rich desire to be his, in every sense of the word. His partner, his plaything, his lover. But touching yourself whilst thinking of his cold caress held no merit in comparison to this, to feeling his skilled hands work your sex. His fingers slide down over your opening, seeping through with sleek.

“Oh, kitten, you are so wet for me already. Are you that eager to have me, pet?” he moans, kissing your shoulder tenderly. “Have you been bad? Have you been touching yourself?”

“Yes,” You admit in a gasp as his finger pushes inside of you, pulsing in and out. You constrict around him, tight and desperate for release.

“We’ve wasted so much time,” he groans, continuing to pleasure you, pausing every so often only to run his fingers through your swollen folds. “So many nights I dreamt of taking you, of making you mine. Since that first night, when you stood there in front of me, your clothing soaked through and dripping.” He sucks on your neck, hard, enough to mark you. “I wanted nothing more than to rip those wet clothes off of you and fuck you into the ground.”

“I wish you had,” you confess in another moan, causing him to halt his movement between your legs. You whine in defeat.

“What did I say about talking, pet?” He snaps, pulling his fingers out of you completely with a warranted complaint from your parted, watering lips. “I should give you something to properly shut you up.” He shoves you off his lap, forcing you down onto your knees. But it finally gives you clearance to meet his gaze.

The instant your eyes connect, all of his stern demeanor washes away, rippling off his body like trickling rain water on silk. His emerald eyes dazzle even in the dim light of your cell, brimming with an emotion so strong it leaves you weak to his advances.

You gingerly reach up to touch his chest, where you remember the impact of the dagger piecing his skin. How the recall of that night haunted you, when you still feared that that moment might have been your last memory of him. But seeing him now, alive, tangible beneath your fingertips, you are overwhelmed by relief. Any remnants of a wound are now hidden beneath his leathers. But healing, no doubt. You continue to trace a trail up to his neck. You relish in the way his eyes gleam down toward you, a reaction to your tender caress. As if a confession all on its own. And when you reach his face, cradling his jaw in your hand, he sighs.

“How long have you known?” He asks softly, kissing your palm.

“Known what?” You whisper in reply.

“How long have you known you loved me?”

Your eyes widen, you hand falling to rest against his chest. You can feel his heart racing beneath your touch.

“Too long, perhaps,” you say softly. “But I never thought... I never thought you could love me in return. That I was deserving of you.”

“You stupid girl,” He whispers, pulling you closer so that your lips just barely touch. “I am the one who is undeserving. A beautiful woman...Strong, resilient, brave. And your heart... oh, your heart is a thing of true beauty, pet. It’s too pure for the cruelty of my love.”

Before you can question him, he pulls you down to meet his lips fully, kissing you with the force of all his suppressed desire, built up from years of ignorance. His tongue pushes impatiently against your lips, asking for permission, and you gladly part your mouth to let him in. He tastes sweeter than you imagined he would. But with hints of bitterness, remnants of years left neglected by love. You feel your power surging into his kiss, a warmth that spreads against his tongue and makes him moan into your mouth.

“I love you,” he confesses finally as he pulls away, allowing you to breathe deeply again. Steam rolling over your lips. “And I don’t care if I don’t deserve you. I will make you mine every day and night. I desire nothing more than the sweet sounds of your pleasure to fill my world.”

Tears dash your lashes, but he refuses to let them fall, gently kissing your closed lids.

“I love you,” you confess again. “I need you, Loki. Please...”

“Then take what you desire, love,” he purrs, stroking under your chin. “I am all yours.”

You reach down to loosen the ties at his waist, restricting his arousal beneath the leather of his pants.

“But for how long?” You ask softly as your hand brushes up against the length of his cock, pulled from the deep confines of his trousers. You stare down at him, at the gift of the Gods, thick and firm within your grasp. Your eyes go wide, imagining how you might fit his girth into you mouth, into your...

“Forever,” he answers, pulling you from your lustrous thoughts. His fingertips urge your head to tilt back, to gaze up at him. You blink, unable to fully comprehend the love you see pooling in the rich ores of his eyes.

He slowly moves his hand up to trace the outline of your lips. “Open wide,” he instructs as his slender digits urge your mouth to open, your jaw coming unhinged as his finger slide against your tongue. He pushes further inside your mouth, encouraging you to suck on his fingers. He groans as you comply to his desires, greedily licking the salt from his skin. But before long, you pull away, only to gently glide the tip of your tongue along the length of his cock. His fingers shove through the hair at your scalp as he moans deeply.

“Fuck...” he breathes, just as you take the glistening tip of his cock into your hot mouth. Sucking his thick cock is enough to send you over the edge, desperate for your own release. And as you pleasure him with your tongue, guiding him in and out over your lips, your hand wanders past your waistband to satisfy your throbbing cunt. Your finger dives inside with a deep moan that vibrates against his cock, shoved deep into the back of your throat.

“Oh yes, just like that,” he groans, thrusting up into you as he holds your head down, until you groan against his sex, struggling to fit all of him inside. “I’m going to ...”

Your grip tightens as you feel his release come in several spurts, dripping down your throat in hot trails that coat the inside of your mouth with the sticky residue. You fight the urge to gag, swallowing his cum instead. You pull away with a _pop_ , licking him clean as you swallow every last drop he has generously gifted you.

He growls as he gazes down at you, evidence of his release still stuck to the corners of your mouth. You stare up at him, breathing heavily between his knees. You lick your lips.

“God, you look perfect like that,” he hums in approval. “With my cum dripping off your tongue.”

He pulls you up off your knees in order to kiss you fully, uncaring that he can taste himself against your tongue. He tears the thin excuse of clothing off your body. His palms press flat against your hips, his caress cooling the rest of your flesh, already overheated, fueled by your power just boiling beneath the surface.

He guides you on top of him then, his back pressed against the wall as you sit in his lap, legs wrapped around his waist. He has already used his magic to remove his own clothing, leaving him completely bare beneath you. Leaving nothing but the cool air between you, allowing your skin to touch, to sizzle with the contrast of your two extreme temperatures.

Ice and fire.

“I want to see you,” you moan, as you reach down to guide his already hardened cock toward your entrance. “The real you, Loki.”

And as his cock slowly fills you, both of you moaning in unison, finally connected the way you need, you watch as he changes. His wards drop, his skin turning toward a unearthly blue hue, the brilliance of his emerald eyes becoming the color of fire. A monster they’d call him.

Your movements halt atop of him. Your fingers rest against the raised grooves that line his chest, tracing along the strange patterns with wide set eyes. These markings signify that he is something beyond reason. Something foreign, alien. Your eyes glide along every inch of his true facade, taking in his new appearance fully. And when finally, your gaze turns back up toward his face, toward those cruel crimson eyes, you see a deep fear pooling beneath his ruby ores. His hands grip tight against your waist, a cold chill seeping into your skin. But you are immune to his deadly touch. To the ice that held his soul.

“I shouldn’t have shown you,” he mutters, gazing down at where your bodies are still connected. “This isn’t something you should have to see...”

You reach up to hold his face in your hands, slowly beginning to move up and down over his hardened length buried deep inside of you.

“You are mine,” you remind him. “As I am yours. Every part of you is beautiful to me.”

Soft chilled tears trickles down your fingers as you lean in to kiss him. But before he can relinquish to your tender caress, you push away enough to whispers against his lips, “Now fuck me. Fuck me the way you promised me.”

An animalistic snarl escapes from him as he spins you around, until you are pressed beneath him. He brings your legs high up above you, gripping onto your ankles placed at either side of his shoulders. He begins to pound into you relentlessly. You scream his name in pleasure, hurtling toward a release that clenches down tight around your lower stomach.

“Is this what you wanted, pet?” He grunts between thrusts, creating lewd sounds as your sex collide together. “Did you want my cock deep inside this tight pussy?”

“Yes! Oh god, yes!”

“I’m going to take you like this, every day for the rest of your mortal life,” he growls. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Loki! I’m yours!”

He drops your legs and falls heavy against you, wrapping his arms tight around your back.

“Mine,” he hums against your neck, not slowing down for even a second as he thrusts deep inside of you. He kisses you softly until you whimper beneath him. Your climax plummets through you then, in a torrid wave, leaving your lips with the scream of his name. Your nails dig into his back. You can feel your power pulsing of out of you, filling the air with a stagnant heat that is near suffocating. But you are immediately cooled by the tender caress of Loki’s hand as he too finds his own release with a grunt, whispering your name against your neck. Both of your bodies tremble, unable to contain the full force of your emotions, coursing through your veins and leaving you both weak in a post-climatic haze.

After a moment of listening to both of your hearts, mutually beating with lingering desire, Loki lifts his head from your neck. He brushes back your hair, clinging to the sweat on your brow.

“I should have done that months ago,” he says with a smirk. You smile up at him before pulling him down into another soft kiss. He whispers repeatedly into your mouth, “I love you,” until his lips trail off your own and start a path of destruction down your neck. You moan, falling toward ruin.

“Uh, Loki?” A voice calls from beyond the door, accompanied by a meek knock. “Are you... done?”

Your eyes widen in shock beneath him, staring helplessly whilst he grins wildly down at you.

“I don’t know. I think she may be game for another round, brother,” he calls out with a chuckle. You smack your hands against your chest, urging him off of you, completely mortified.

You reach for your clothing, scrambling to cover your decency while you watch Loki recline against the flimsy cot, still stark naked as he stares at you. His skin slowly fades back to its peachy hue, a smirk pulling up over his lip.

“What?” You bark, you face boiling over with embarrassment.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He says as that smirk breaks into a full, genuine smile.

“Flattery is not going to save you,” you growl, your blush deepening.

“Oh but it will.” He stands, his clothing shimmering back into existence over his body. “We are helping you escape with us, love,” he says as he reaches for the door handle, revealing an equally red Thor on the other side of the entryway. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“You said you were just going to confess how you felt,” he whispers harshly. “I didn’t realize that would need to involve lovemaking.”

Loki laughs, clutching his brother’s shoulder. “Is this not how you confessed your love to lady Jane? Or perhaps you never did... that would explain why things never worked out between you. Did you not know where to put it?”

“Of course I knew where to put it...” Thor growls, sparks pulsing around his clenched fists before his eyes dart past you, into the corner of the room. His anger shimmers off his body as shock replaces it. “What is that?” He gapes, his blue eyes wide with question.

You turn to find the unlikely evidence of your lovemaking plastering against the back of the cot, a strange swirl of charred and frozen fabric. Loki bellows with laughter at the sight of it while you push past the two Asgardian brothers, muttering curses. Loki grabs a hold of your wrist, spinning you around before he can escape any further.

“You are mine,” he reminds you, with a kiss pressed gently against your forehead. “My little spitfire.”

“My cruel God,” You snarl before smiling in defeat, reaching up to kiss him fully on the lips.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Thor mutters. “I’ve arranged for a jet to take us out of here but the window for departure is rather slim. So can you contain your desire to fuck like animals until after we get to Norway?”

“Norway?” You pull away from Loki.

“My people are there,” he explains. “All of Asgard. Our new home. And your home... if you’ll have me.”

Your eyes widen, your hands shaking beneath his hold. “You’d really want me there with you?”

“Do you still question the sincerity of my love? Even now?”

You blink, a tear falling down your cheek, only to be caught on the crook of his finger. You gaze up into his eyes. Once again, they appear as the rich emeralds you fell so deeply in love with during those late hours of the night, when the glint of green was the only color to illuminate your growing darkness.

“I want to live with you,” you answer in a whimper. “It doesn’t matter where we are.”

“Then live,” he replies, kissing your lashes, dashed with unmet tears. “And let me fulfill my promise to you everyday for the rest of my life.”

You take his hand and follow after Thor, out of the depths of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s dungeon and into the blinding light of day, breaking through the clouds just beyond the horizon. Your grip tightens as you stare up at him, questioning everything, even as you board your getaway jet, waiting for you against the small grassy knoll.

“This is real, isn’t it?” You mutter, studying his expression carefully. “I’m not dreaming, am I?”

He falls in beside you, the ground becoming smaller and smaller beneath the metal vessel. Thor takes up the helm, taking you toward your new home.

“It’s the best sort of dream,” Loki replies, pulling your body flesh against his, until you can feel his heart racing inside your own chest. “It’s a dream from which you never have to wake.”


	3. AUTHOR’S NOTE

Hello everyone! I wanted to take a quick moment to let you know that I am currently working on remastering this concept. I feel like there is a lot of potential within this story, more than the 2-Chapter one off it was original conceptualized as. I want to flesh out the relationship between Agent Embers and Loki more, explore their friendship and eventual love. And I hope you’ll join me on that journey! 

This story will be my first as a non-reader insert on this site, focusing more on our original character in 3rd person. I’ll keep this story posted as a separate entity for you all to continue to read and enjoy. Keep your eyes out for this new story coming soon.

 

” ** _Spitfire_** ”

 

Thanks again for reading! 


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